


Osculum

by Sybilina



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Blow Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:04:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5250905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sybilina/pseuds/Sybilina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More and more, Gansey noticed the way Ronan would always calm and settle after someone pressed their lips to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Osculum

Gansey notices it one day when Noah slips in while everyone is yelling and arguing, none louder and more obscene than Ronan, and while Gansey and Adam are going at it in their heated, soft and terse voices, Noah comes up and smacks a kiss to Ronan’s cheek. It’s cheeky and silly and daring, and Gansey and Adam keep arguing for a few more seconds, watching Ronan still and settle in his seat in the aftermath of the smooch. Then he can’t keep it up with Adam and he gives in, folding and caving, anything at all to let Adam have the upper hand, all of his anger forgotten in the wonder that has become Ronan.

And then it starts to click for him, the way kisses are like kryptonite for Ronan. One time, their substitute Latin teacher had given them extra homework, something that had little or nothing to do with Latin, as far as Ronan was concerned, and he spent the entire evening ranting about it in a way only Ronan could - with half articulate curses and a lot of banging and slamming. Finally, they’d been about to pile into the Pig for a trip to Ninos and, out of the corner of his eye, he’d caught Adam kissing Ronan smack on the mouth before sliding into the backseat. Ronan had been quiet the rest of the night.

Gansey didn’t know they did that too.

It had started, between him and Ronan, a while back, when they’d both been a little drunk, a little horny, talking about kissing and fucking in obsolete and vague terms, both of them dancing around their own uncertainty about sexuality, and they’d fallen into each other, accidentally on purpose, their lips finding each other’s and speaking a language words could never attempt to recreate.

Since then, it had become a thing, especially when they were both drunk or sleep deprived, lips finding each other, mostly chaste and gentle, like a greeting or a parting. Ronan’s favorite time to land one on Gansey was in the early morning, after Ronan had spent the night with a bottle of liquor and Gansey had fought a valiant but ultimately unsuccessful battle with the sheets of his bed, both of them aiming for the coffee pot, somehow landing grinds where they go and just enough water so it wasn’t sludge. Most of the time, Gansey was still half asleep, or half attempted sleep, and he would feel just a soft brush of Ronan’s lips against his, tasting of whiskey or rum or scotch, and then he’d be gone before he could even open his eyes properly.

Gansey kissed him whenever he had the chance. It was most fun when he caught Ronan off guard. It had become almost like a game to him, coming out of the shower and finding Ronan on the other side, waiting for his turn, kissing him quickly and dripping a little on his shoulder before walking to his dresser to change, enjoying the way Ronan’s eyes would bulge just a little at the surprise peck. Or just before he headed off to bed, Ronan slamming cupboards in the kitchen in search of a bottle, snatching whatever he’d chosen out of his hands and replacing it with something less menacing, since vodka always made Ronan an angry, messy drunk, and whiskey was more a gentle though sometimes sadder drunk and the vodka bottle was always more full, slipping the whiskey into his hands as he slipped a kiss, surprising Ronan into accepting the exchange.

But that was them and Adam didn’t seem that easy going with the kisses.

Then one time, Ronan had been in the backseat for whatever reason, Blue sitting next to him, Adam out of the car in the store for some snacks, and Declan had been in the driver’s side window, sneering and sniding his way onto Ronan’s bad side, and Gansey had glanced back just long enough to see Blue holding his hand, her lips just barely brushing his knuckles as she glared at Declan. Gansey couldn’t decide if he was more amazed at Blue kissing or Ronan allowing himself to be kissed.

When Adam got back into the car, they’d had to tell him the story three times because he couldn’t believe Ronan hadn’t jumped out of the car and slammed his brother’s face into the car door a few times. No one mentioned Blue’s participation.

More and more, he noticed the way Ronan would always calm and settle after someone pressed their lips to him.

One day when they were alone in Monmouth, Ronan was fiddling around in the kitchen, not quite searching for a bottle yet but Gansey could tell it wasn’t far off. He put down his notebook and slid off the bed, stepping softly into the kitchen and slowly slipping his arms around Ronan’s waist until he was pressed against his back.

“What are you doing?” Ronan asked, flicking at something on the counter.

“I was about to ask you the same question,” Gansey asked. Right when Ronan’s fist tightened, like he was about to punch the counter, Gansey pressed his lips to the back of Ronan’s neck.

Ronan, as expected, froze, his entire body seizing up and tensing before it all seemed to bleed out of him at once.

Gansey tucked his chin onto Ronan’s shoulder, Ronan’s ear less than an inch away from his mouth and for a moment, he contemplated licking it or biting it. He’d never bitten an earlobe before. He wondered what it would taste like and what kind of reaction that would get from Ronan. Instead, he just said, “You remind me a little of Stitch.”

“Little blue alien?” Ronan asked after a moment. Gansey noted the lack of heat in his words.

“Little angry puppy.”

Ronan hummed. “Not exactly little.”

Seemingly against his will and without his permission, Ronan’s hands were on Gansey’s, not holding them, not pushing them away, just resting on them like he was amazed they were there, wrapped around Ronan’s middle hugging him from behind. “Remember when Lilo put the leis around his neck and he fell to the ground?”

Ronan hummed again but said nothing. Gansey knew he’d watched it. Ronan might be above Disney for his own sake but not for Matthew, never for Matthew. Matthew could get him to watch Frozen twenty times over and even get him to sing along. Hell, he'd sing along without prompting just to make Matthew smile.

“You remind me of that scene. Whenever someone kisses you.” Gansey pressed his lips to the side of Ronan’s neck and watched as Ronan’s eyes fluttered shut. Then Ronan trembled slightly and Gansey backed off just a tiny bit, wondering if he’d overstepped a line.

“My dad,” Ronan said, his voice soft and delicate in a way Gansey had only heard a couple of times before, “used to say, ‘kissing someone is the ultimate way of showing you love them.’”

Gansey waited for him to go on and when he didn’t, he resettled his chin on Ronan’s shoulder, thinking. Ronan froze when someone kissed him. Almost like he was in shock. Or disbelief. Very deliberately, he kissed Ronan’s earlobe, and Ronan full body-shivered.

When Ronan turned, just a little, looking at him out of the corner of his eye, Gansey couldn’t help but press his lips against the beginnings of his crows feet, the lines on the outer edges of his eyes, forcing him into a wink. Then he kissed Ronan’s cheekbone. Then he let his lips trail down, kissing every bit of his cheek, every sharp and delicate inch of his jawline that he could get his lips onto.

Distantly, he noticed Ronan’s hands clutching his, like he was holding on lest he fall in some way, and Gansey released his grip just enough to spin him, wanting to get his lips all over this fiery, fierce boy with a heart of gold, a spine of steel, and made of everything from thorns to the stuff of teddy bear creation.

He paused when he noticed Ronan’s jaw trembling, Ronan whispering out a single word, “please,” gripping his hands, his eyes on Gansey’s lips, and Gansey juggled briefly in his head the possibilities of what Ronan could mean with that word. Then he took a chance and pressed his lips to Ronan’s, quickly so he could press another, then another, then another, so Ronan knew, so every kiss was a burst of everything Gansey felt for him. He let his lips trail every few kisses, to Ronan’s jaw, to the sides of his nose, to his eyes as he pressed them shut, before finally wandering back to Ronan’s lips, and suddenly he realized there was a high whining sound in the room and it took a moment before he realized it was coming from Ronan. Like he had swallowed the sound and was trying to keep it locked up but it was just clawing to be let out. So he freed it the only way he knew how, by kissing Ronan again on the lips and opening them with his tongue.

Ronan’s hands were suddenly gripping his waist and he was shaking, trembling in a way that would have made Gansey nervous if he wasn’t trembling a little bit himself.

He walked them back slowly, edging towards his bed, not letting up on the press of his lips against Ronan’s, letting Ronan chase his tongue and trace his teeth, letting Ronan take control. When he hit the bed, Ronan’s hands were on his belt buckle, pulling and sliding the leather apart.  
When Gansey tried to stop him, his hands gentle on Ronan’s, Ronan just looked at him with a raw kind of need in his eyes, like Gansey had stripped him and clawed him open and if he didn’t let Ronan do this, it would be cruel. Like he needed this to make sure he didn’t shake apart.  
Ronan sank to his knees at the same time Gansey felt his pants hit the floor and he had to look at the ceiling for a few seconds to get his breathing under control.

When he looked back down, Ronan’s lips were just stretching around him, the heat engulfing him, and he spread his fingers over the back of Ronan’s scalp, sliding over the stubble on his head and reveling in it. When Ronan looked up at him, he smiled, wrapping his fingers around Ronan’s hand on his waist and pulling it up to his face so he could kiss the knuckles there. Ronan’s tongue stopped dancing along him, where it had been doing a marvelous jig, and he could feel Ronan swallow. Once he was finished kissing the back of Ronan’s hand, he turned it over so he could kiss the palm and all the calluses on the other side of his knuckles.

He felt himself hit the back of Ronan’s throat, felt the flutter of Ronan swallowing against his gag reflex, held Ronan’s hand against his cheek for a moment while he bit into his own hand, trying to keep the groan inside. Then he put Ronan’s hand back on his hip, reaching for the other hand. It took only a moment for Ronan to realize what he was doing, that Gansey was going to lavish kisses on him in every way possible, he wasn’t going to spare an inch, that one hand had been taken care of and now the other was destined for the same treatment, and Gansey felt his thighs tremble at the vibration coming from Ronan’s throat, ricocheting his calves off the side of the bed. He contemplated sitting down but he didn’t want to ruin the moment,

Ronan fixed it for both of them after about the fiftieth kiss Gansey placed on the palm of his hand, pulling off Gansey slowly, giving him one last twirl with his tongue, making Gansey’s toes curl, before sliding up to meet Gansey, pushing with his body, with his hands and his hips and his lips, helping Gansey to fall gently onto the bed, both of them distantly kicking his pants off the rest of the way.

Of all the things to get to Gansey, it was the feel of Ronan’s hand on the back of his head, like he’d been protecting him from the slow and tender fall onto the bed, as if Gansey were precious or made of glass. His hands found their own way onto Ronan’s backside, clutching and pulling, and both of them grunted with surprise at the sudden friction. Ronan reached between them, shifting his pants down and away, and when he gripped them together in one fist, Gansey felt his eyes roll into the back of his head, leaning hard into Ronan’s other hand, effectively trapping his hand between Gansey and the bed.

So many times, Gansey had watched Ronan’s hands, watched them curl into fists right before plummeting someone or something, watched his fingers dance in the air as he nibbled on his wristbands, watched the angry way they clutched the neck of a bottle as he pulled it into his bedroom or hefted it up for a swig. The times he clenched the steering wheel and took a turn too hard, the times he’d flipped Kavinsky off across the way, the time he’d gripped Gansey’s knee and shoved to make him hit the gas harder.

The way his hand had curled around a shoe and killed the wasp in his bedroom.

Suddenly it was too much, how these hands that were so able, so used to causing such cruelty were always working to protect Gansey, always working for him, with him, on his side even when he didn’t know it, didn’t know how much he needed them until they were there. He wrapped his arm around Ronan’s neck and yanked, the clash of lips harsh and full of teeth and a moderate amount of pain, and Gansey kind of liked that, how so much of Ronan was pain and harshness. Loving Ronan, being loved by Ronan would never be easy, would never be hearts and rainbows, and he needed Ronan to know he knew that, and he kissed Ronan harder.

The fingers behind his head tensed, Ronan pulling away to gasp and press their foreheads together, his eyes squeezing shut. The hand around them both was still going and Gansey pressed his lips to Ronan’s eyebrow, the only place his lips could reach, and he felt Ronan shift so his hand was entirely around Gansey, fast and furious and tight, and it didn’t take more than a dozen strokes before Gansey was gasping himself, breathing hot and hard into Ronan’s temple.

They panted for several long, slow minutes, and Gansey rubbed his chin against Ronan’s head before finally letting his grip slacken. Ronan didn’t go far, settling into a more comfortable position with his head on Gansey’s chest, their hands tangled together off to the side, Gansey’s thumb tracing the outlines of Ronan’s wristbands.

As he drifted off, Ronan’s breathing having evened out long ago, he wondered if maybe this was the best way to get Ronan to sleep. Kissing was kryptonite but sex was like a delectable sedative.

He shifted slightly before he fell asleep so his nose was just touching Ronan’s head, his lips pressed insistent against his temple.


End file.
